


Steam and Fog

by ladysisyphus



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Pining, Spoilers for The Magnus Archives Season 4, Voyeurism, oh my god peter fuck off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:08:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29900184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladysisyphus/pseuds/ladysisyphus
Summary: The Lonely makes itself a snack.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	Steam and Fog

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Plooby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plooby/gifts).



> [Originally written as a ficbit request.](https://ladysisyphus.livejournal.com/904815.html?thread=7735663#t7735663)

"You miss him, don't you?"

"Go fuck yourself," muttered Martin, who had by this point come to the conclusion that if Peter was just going to show up whenever he pleased, then he was just going to get whatever he showed up in the middle of. Even if that whatever presently was Martin, soaking wet and completely naked, standing braced against the wall of the shower stall with one hand, jerking himself off with his other. Hell, _especially_ if it was that.

But Peter just laughed, because of course Peter did, because Peter was a fucking monster. Maybe Martin had times of wondering how many stones he personally still deserved to be able to throw around, but damn everything, at least he was better than _that_. "I think it's actually sweet," Peter said with a laugh that still managed to be sincere. That was the hell of it -- Peter probably _did_ think Martin's crush on Jon was sweet. Problem being, Peter looked on sweetness with nothing but a monster's contempt. "The Lonely loves a doomed romance. Pining, pining is delicious."

Martin grunted and closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to the chilled tile wall of the shower. He'd rinsed clean and turned off the water first, because in old buildings like this, the water heater could hardly keep up with the needs of regular use of lavatory sinks, let alone a full shower. That was why Martin only showered at night, when everyone in the upper, public-facing floors of the building had gone home like normal people. Well, almost everyone.

He'd always imagined Elias would keep some exciting condo in a posh part of town, maybe a whole floor to himself in the kind of building that wouldn't let someone on Martin's salary in the front door. For all Martin knew, Elias _did_ have such a place. But upon arriving to fill the interim position in Elias' absence, Peter had shown Martin that Elias had been mostly living in the Institute itself. In fact, someone seemed at some point to have converted what the building map said should've been an upper-floor conference room into a living area, complete with bathroom, bedroom, and even a rudimentary kitchen space. By all rights it had been Peter's to take over along with the rest of the job -- though unsurprisingly Peter had balked in the extreme at the idea of moving into the middle of a building with so many people in it. But Martin could have it, if he liked.

Martin had only hesitated in accepting long enough not to look eager about being gifted anything from the hand of Peter Lukas. Really, though, he'd never had any affection for his flat even before it had been laid siege to by the Corruption. What furniture he'd accumulated over the years had either been found thrifting or gifted to him by his mother when she'd moved into care. He'd never even so much as hung a picture on a wall. For obvious reasons, it had been so easy to let it all go.

With his hand around his erection and his eyes closed, Martin tried to concentrate on ... well, _anything_ , really, as far as the category of "anything" could exclude Peter. Unfortunately, the logic of 'if I ignore him, maybe he'll go away' seemed particularly ill-equipped to deal with even average servants of the Lonely, much less their scion. Martin tried to go back to what he'd been thinking about earlier, which was Jon, because of course it was. Regular as clockwork, Martin could be counted on to be thinking about Jon, especially when it came to matters of kissing.

Peter clucked his tongue thoughtfully. "Because he _is_ handsome, in his own way. On the scrawny side, to be sure, but for men like us, it's harder sometimes to find someone who's _not_." He chuckled, a sound that would almost have been appropriate from the lips of a department-store Santa, had Martin not been able to hear it for just what it was. "Bit like Elias, when first we met."

Martin gritted his teeth and squinted his eyes shut tight. He hated when Peter talked about Elias, in large part because ... okay, Elias _was_ attractive. So, for that matter, was Peter. Martin had outright thought that about both of them, back before he'd known they were such utter goddamn monsters, which was a bit of a boner-killer. But it wasn't _enough_ of a boner-killer to keep Martin from feeling catastrophically uncomfortable pangs of arousal when Peter's gentle, buttery voice put thoughts into his head he didn't want there.

"That shower, for instance," Peter continued after a moment's pause. That silence hadn't been long enough to give Martin the false hope that Peter had fucked off, though, not while a soggy chill still lapped at Martin's damp ankles. "It's a tight fit for two, but just right provided they don't mind getting close."

Christ, was Peter actually trying to tell Martin that he'd fucked Elias in the same shower Martin was currently jerking off (or _trying_ to jerk off, at least) in? Oh, but Martin had no problem imagining how it'd happen. There was even a low little tile shelf in there, about the height of a good footrest. Get one leg up like that, press himself against the cold wall opposite the dials and shower head, and yeah, Martin could imagine exactly what it'd be like to get fucked while standing in there. Not that he'd ever been fucked before, but he had a good imagination.

Martin'd managed to make it thus far in his life without ever having been so much as been _kissed_ before, and there was no way that Peter could know that, but somehow Martin knew that Peter knew. That was the extra bite behind Peter's chipper little taunts, not just _Jon will never want you that way_ , but full-on _**nobody** will ever want you that way_. Joke was on Peter, though -- that was something Martin had been thinking independently since the onset of puberty!

On reflection, that perhaps wasn't as sharp of a burn as Martin had intended it to be.

"It's good like that, though," Peter said, his voice as insidiously soft as the rising fog, and just as intimate. "Of course, a bit uncomfortable. But that's the key, isn't it? Knowing that it's so good, he'll put up with how it hurts a little bit, just a touch, as well. Knowing you'll do the same. And you'll feel it after, too, especially once you get to my age. Learning how you can each get the other to accept days of lingering pain for a moment of pleasure."

There was such a difference between steam and fog, one that Martin had never really considered before the past year. The steam from the shower's hot water was almost playful with how easily it swirled and lifted on the slightest air current, gathering at the ceiling before eventually dissipating on into the Institute's pervasive chill. But fog lingered, heavy and tangible, especially so far from any space that sunlight ever touched. If Martin shooed it away, it just reformed elsewhere, clinging to itself and anything it could reach. Fighting it was fighting a losing battle.

"So you don't need to be afraid of what'll happen if he doesn't want you like this," Peter purred, and Christ, his voice was so close now that he sounded almost like he was _in_ the shower with Martin, ready to let Martin judge for himself if that moment of pleasure was worth it. Martin gritted his teeth and jerked himself faster, trying to reason that the sooner this was over, the sooner Peter would finish and leave and stop bothering Martin. And if Martin couldn't quite fix his thoughts to Jon, so what? It didn't matter if his mind kept wandering back to wondering what it would feel like to have someone even bigger than he was press him up against the shower wall, pin his hands to its cold tile surface, lift one of his legs up onto that little shelf, pound him until he couldn't remember his name or his failures or all the reasons no one would ever touch him. "You need to be afraid of what'll happen if he _does_."

Martin came then, moaning as he shot right against the shower wall, and it was such a blessed relief not only to have the release of orgasm, but to be able to growl two seconds later, " _FUCK OFF_!"

Of course, Peter wasn't there. He'd possibly never been there. By all accounts, Martin had been talking to himself the entire time anyway, spitting curses at an empty room while having an embarrassing jerk-off session thinking about his two bosses fucking one another. But the strangest thing was, he didn't feel guilty about having had those thoughts. Neither did he feel embarrassed. Really, he didn't feel much of anything at all.

He turned the water of the shower back on again and stood under it, willing himself to think of nothing but the pounding spray, until at last the stream ran cold and nothing he could do could bring it back.


End file.
